Trouble In Paradise
by Odd Affections
Summary: When the Jupiter 2 happens upon a world where they cherish rest and relaxation above all else, Smith thinks he's found a place to settle down and someone to settle down with. That is, until it all goes awry.
1. Chapter 1

**Authors' Notes:** This story was started by one author as a challenge and eventually became a cooperative effort. Please read and review if you want more!

Smith sat staring at the horizon, trying to figure out exactly where the light cerulean of the sky kissed the rich azure of the crystal seas. He drew a deep breath and held it, savoring the slightly salty smell of the ocean, mixed with fragrant potted plants and infused by Ellen's heady perfume. As his mind tried to sort out the point where flowery fragrance ended and his companion's delightful scent began, he sipped on his drink, something strongly reminiscent of a piña colada. The white froth dripped over the edge and his tongue darted out between thin lips to lap it up.

Beside him, Ellen had stretched out in a lounger, looking at him in that way that told him she thought his capture of the foam looked silly but sexy at the same time. One arched brow quirked toward the thatched roof of the bungalow. He thanked the powers that be for their momentary kindness in allowing him a respite from his arduous ordeal. While this world wasn't Earth, it was certainly as close to it as any planet he'd ever seen. From what he'd observed, the locals of this world were decidedly humanoid if one ignored the grasshopper-like faces and oddly articulated fingers. Additionally, they displayed earth-like thought processes, including an appreciation for peaceful coexistence, beautiful surroundings and a fondness for relaxation. It was this latter similarity to Terrans that made him quite grateful they'd discovered this proverbial oasis in the desert.

That was what brought him, the Robinson family, their surly pilot, and one of the star-faring humans to this world. The beings of this planet welcomed anyone and everyone as long as they abandoned warlike tendencies at the door...uh, stratosphere, he amended. So much the better. He certainly didn't have war on his mind, just the opposite in fact. And the object of his attention was daintily sipping something smelling like Amaretto and a local fruit juice. The concoction was fairly inebriating. And this was her third, he noted. He also didn't miss the sweet little smile pulling at the corner of her mouth.

"Yes, indeed," he thought to himself, "she is definitely enjoying this...and my company. How lovely. For me!" A true smile appeared on his lips. "And for her," he amended as his blue gaze settled on her features for the hundredth time. He found himself finding her more and more attractive each time he looked at her. At that moment, more serious thoughts entered his head. This was a woman he wanted to keep around. True there was nothing to be gained by her companionship, outside of the obvious things of course. But 'using' her wasn't a part of his agenda. At least not any longer. The more time he spent with her in this town of Cabana style cabins set on stilts, hovering over glasslike seas, the more he yearned to have those green eyes look on him with 'interest'. It hadn't happened yet, but at least she was here...with him...for the third day in a row.

Ellen arose, lithely, taking in the beauty of their surroundings as she stretched muscles stiff from too much sitting. Glass still in hand, she looked over the open edge on the deck, where a 'pool ladder' descended out of sight. A creature that looked exactly like a greyhound sized, opalescent-scaled dragon flitted overhead and she craned her neck, straining to keep it in sight. It burbled like a pigeon rather than the hiss both of them expected.

Smith snagged a crunchy snack out of the garnet colored bowl on the small table beside his chaise. "Ellen," he called very softly, little more than a whisper, so as not to startle the object of her attention.

The woman turned and bestowed a radiant smile at him as he brandished the treat. Her hand stretched toward him, beckoning with a curled forefinger. Lightly, he tossed it to her. It landed in her palm then bounced slightly. She tried to snag it again, flipping it up twice, like a football player trying to pull in a fumbled ball. Just as she was about to regain control of the morsel, the 'dragon' swooped down on her, dazzling wings flaring as they reflected the brilliant sunshine. It pulled the treat into its razor sharp claws without leaving behind a single scratch, clearly a skill it had perfected after being fed this way by many visitors in this tropical locale.

As it swooped around her, the tip of its spiked tail tapped her side. Scared that it might cut her, she took a step back. Clearly she forgot where she was standing. Her next step wasn't onto the smooth wood decking but onto open air. With a startled shriek, she tipped over backward, arms pin-wheeling wildly.

Muscled legs instantly propelled him from his chair, no easy feat since it was a lounger. He lunged to grab her hand, felt satin skin slide through his fingers. Seconds later he heard a loud splash as her body impacted the smooth surface of the water.

Instinctively, he held his breath. His body, taut with rising fear and tension, arched over the ledge. He bent down, dropped to his knees, waiting for her to surface. At best, he would reach down and help her back up. At worst...he was prepared to go in after her. After which, she would be _very_ grateful...he hoped.

In the distance, he heard feet pounding on well-tended boardwalks. But he tuned it out. Torso angling farther out, he found himself praying to any god who would listen and his right hand instinctively stretched down. The inert body still hadn't moved. Just as he was about to dive in, there was a sudden burst of activity. Water arced up and out in a dazzling display of rainbow colored liquid gems. The dragon winging in circles overhead in hopes of receiving further treats squawked like a startled chicken as the female body below rocketed upward. One well manicured hand snagged Smith's fingers, clamping it in a vise-like grip. Using that as leverage, her other hand curled around the back of his neck.

His lower back screamed momentarily as he held her weight partially above water level. And then he surrendered to gravity, letting himself be pulled into the undulating azure sea. "How lucky can I get?" he thought. His open eyes saw red hair swirl around her face as a smile glowed brilliantly in his direction.

 _"My Ariel has lured me to a most pleasant rendezvous."_ He totally ignored the legends of what Mermaids actually did to sailors, and reached for her, pulling her to him.

Their bodies pressed together, sliding like silk against one another. Her fingers combed through the hair on his chest, then settled back around his neck. Slowly, his eyes closed as his mouth sought hers in a pulse pounding, all consuming caress. His head began to pound although he was having a hard time figuring out if it was from the kiss or a need to draw breath. _Oxygen be damned_ , he thought harshly. The kiss had won. He ignored the urge to surface but couldn't ignore the way his body was spurring him onward.

Finally, the all-consuming need for breath pushed them both skyward. Smith hadn't done more than gasp in the first lungful of air when he heard a voice bellow, "Smith, what the hell are you doing?"

The Doctor looked at his flushed companion and rolled his eyes. "That man really irks me!" he growled as his eyes focused on the angry gaze belonging to Major West. As he swam toward the ladder, he promised himself that he wasn't going to let the Major distract him from this particular...and pleasurable...mission for long.


	2. Chapter 2

"Lunch in fifteen minutes," the Major barked at the two water-slicked companions and stalked off towards his own bungalow to get ready.

The doctor couldn't help but notice that his adversary wasn't having nearly as grand a time as he was. _Trouble in paradise?_ he mused. He hoped that Judy wasn't being negatively affected by the Major's mood. Or perhaps she was the cause. Whatever the case, he couldn't suppress the smirk that flashed across his face.

His mind quickly returned to thoughts of his companion. Smith watched with interest as she walked towards his bungalow. A sultry glance over her shoulder broadcasted her expectation that he'd be along shortly. He had no intention of disappointing her.

When he entered, her back was to him and she was busy drying herself off. As he approached, he gently removed the towel from her hands and took over the task himself, taking the opportunity to massage her well-tanned shoulders as he did so. Once again, her scent, only slightly dulled by their watery rendezvous, captivated him and he dipped his head to take it in. She turned her head towards him, pressed her cheek against his, and caressed his face with soft, slender fingers. A contented sigh escaped her lips, which only urged him on.

Hesitantly, his lips lightly caressed her bare shoulder and she shuddered with delight. Caresses became kisses, growing in urgency. He brushed her auburn hair aside to give himself greater access to the delicate skin at the nape of her neck. A trail of warm kisses followed, ending at her opposite shoulder. He nuzzled his cheek against hers as his hands moved lower, eagerly gliding the towel over every one of her curves. It wasn't long before he dropped the towel, along with the pretense that he was drying her off. His hands, steady and sure from years of practice as a doctor, explored her warm, supple skin as her lips began to explore his.

She leaned back against him and he welcomed the increased contact. "Zachary?" she purred.

"Mmm?" he replied wordlessly.

She turned to face him and her nimble fingers danced across his chest, pausing here and there to glide through the soft, silky hair. "I've really been enjoying myself the past few days."

"As have I, my dear," he replied.

Her hands soon found their way up to his shoulders and then loosely clasped behind his neck. "Do you think we'll have time?" she asked enigmatically.

"Hmm? Time for what?" he questioned, mesmerized by the glint of mischief and flirtation evident in her eyes.

"You know... a little fun?" She almost gasped at the forwardness of her suggestion. She suspected the alcohol may have had something to do with it, but at this point, she didn't care. She was sure his proximity to her was stoking the fires of her desire much more than any effects of alcohol.

"Definitely not," the doctor replied.

"What?" she choked, feeling as if he'd just slapped her across the face. "What do you mean?"

"My dear," his gentle, baritone voice soothed. "The Major said we only had fifteen minutes until lunch... and I like to take my time."

A smile slowly spread across her face. "Oh, I see." Her fingers played with the soft hair on the back of his head. "Well, you weren't that hungry anyway, were you?"

"Not that kind of hungry," he admitted, as he captured her lips once again.

A loud knock rattled the bungalow door, followed by a female voice. "Doctor Smith?"

The doctor broke the kiss and released an exasperated sigh. "Yes, Mrs. Robinson?"

"It's time for lunch. I thought you'd like to know."

"Thank you, Mrs. Robinson." He waited a few seconds until the Robinson matriarch had left, then turned his attention back to the woman he had wrapped in his arms. ""Well, that was a fast fifteen minutes. I think we're expected for lunch."."

"I think you're right," she smiled. "We'll have plenty of time for _fun_ after a nice meal."

"Yes. We'd best get dressed," Smith said, a tinge of disappointment unmistakable in his tone. _Foiled again_ , he fumed. He would have time alone with her, if he had to tie up the whole Robinson clan to do it. The thought of having to resort to such tactics made him smile. She mirrored his smile, despite not knowing the thoughts going through his head.


	3. Chapter 3

Ellen sighed mightily. _Curses, foiled again!_ she thought with a twist of her sensuous lips as she watched the older blond woman walk away. She and Mrs. Robinson were going to have to have 'words' one of these days, words such as "interruption" and "inopportune moments". But as a consolation prize, at least she would get to enjoy the scenery as she walked back to her over-water bungalow.

The azure waves lapped gently against the pillars, a soft shush-shushing sound, dancing in the same rhythm as her bare feet on the planking. Her eyes scanned the shore, a thin line of pale lilac-hued sand, with red crowned palm-like foliage beyond. It was so beautiful and yet so alien. Still, it was obvious why this place brought life-forms from all over the galaxy. Unlike the fictitious Risa from the holovids of Star Trek: The Next Generation, this place was real, vibrant, and almost too beautiful for words.

This region catered to an amazing variety of oxygen breathing life-forms. Smith had told her it was like a vessel he'd been on about two years prior, a space-faring cruise ship designed to accommodate a large assortment of visitors. Given the size of this world, she'd learned from him and the Robinsons that every town or seaside resort was designed to house and feed groups of similar beings. They'd been directed to the area catering to oxygen breathing 'humanoids' whose skins didn't melt from the salt water and whose stomachs could handle a varied menu of herbivorous meats and bland vegetables. Bland meaning nothing with nettles or poisons or noxious acids for sap.

Before she knew it, she was standing in front of her bungalow door. With a quick palm placed against the glass panel, the door unlocked for her. She crossed the threshold and took a few moments to glance through the transparent flooring at the sea life below. There wasn't much to see aside from sand, but every now and then fish and eels, or what she supposed were fish and eels, swam within view and kept going. The 'fish' currently swimming past had multi-jointed limbs with fins at the ends and rubbery whip tails that flattened into paddle shapes at the end. Their bulbous eyes were faceted and opal colored...all four of them. Scales were a deep shade of purple except where their pale milky white bellies met sand. Glassy serrated teeth made constant chomping movements.

She'd been terrified to swim the first time she saw this particular beast. Then Zachary had informed her they used their vicious looking dentition to dig into the sand to filter out the minute 'sand mites' that lived just below the sediment. They'd never been known to attack the guests, he'd informed her with a twinkle in his blue eyes. At least not yet.

"But never fear, my dear," he'd purred and nudged her with a shoulder, "I shall protect you. No purple piranha will ever nibble on you while I'm near."

He said it with such panache that she almost laughed at him. But she knew better. If those big fishies truly did want a taste of her firm flesh, he'd probably run for the hills or in this case for the nearest bungalow. And just knowing that fact sort of irked her because it served to remind her that she couldn't quite 'get' what she liked about him.

Pheromones, had to be the pheromones. Whenever she was not around him, she felt sane and collected. But get within 10 feet of him and that was 'all she wrote' as the saying went. Every fiber of her being enjoyed having him around. To be honest with herself, she was forced to admit he was certainly not her type. Not particularly attractive, that was for sure. And a rogue. Surely he was that too. His reputation not withstanding, he had that classic charm that could draw smiles and allay concerns. But just as she'd been warned, that charm went poof like the stink bugs her dad would wrap in toilet paper and toss into the fire when she was little. Whenever his plans went awry someone was left holding the bag as the ancient and overused saying went. Yet, he kept pursuing her and much to her chagrin, she kept allowing it.

Sighing again, louder this time, Ellen brushed back auburn hair that had been tousled by the light ocean breeze but hadn't yet dried. In two fluid motions she shucked her still dripping clothing onto the floor. The robo-servers would pop out of doors inside the bamboo walls and pick it all up. In no time, it would be cleaned, dried, folded and placed on her bed.

She stood before two columns inside what passed for the shower room and flicked her hand in front of a red glowing button. "Turn it on Hal" she commanded imperiously. God, she loved those old movies. The columns whirred to life, blowing warm air all over her body until she was totally dry, a process that took all of 30 seconds, hair included.

Running her brush through wavy tresses that tickled the bare skin on her shoulder, she felt Zachary's kisses dance there for a few seconds. Frustration levels grew. She wanted the real thing, not a memory. Now! Heat warmed deep in her belly. Damn him, she thought, then smiled wryly. He'd wooed her with his erudite comments, keen wit, and attentive ways and she'd fallen without much of a fuss. The whole time she stood in front of the mirror, assessing him, assessing her life, she was eagerly waiting to be reunited with him.

Selecting something semi-sheer and clingy to accentuate her curves and her natural beauty, Ellen gave herself the once over and got ready to meet everyone for the mid-day meal.

It didn't take long to join the rest of the Robinsons and Major West plus a few members of her own crew. All of them were laughing and joking and generally enjoying themselves. Everyone smiled as she approached the table. Smith's eyes made love to her as she moved to sit in the vacant seat next to him, the seat kindly reserved for her by Mrs. Robinson who missed nothing. _Okay, two forgiveness points awarded to Mrs. R,_ she thought.

"You look incredibly lovely," he murmured softly into her ear as she sat next to him, then added, "As always."

Looking down and feeling heat rushing to her cheeks, she replied just as quietly, "Thanks." Her mind ran through a litany of kind things to say about him but ultimately decided to reward him with a tender look rather than with words designed to cater to vanity. The truth was he looked a bit silly. The men all did. Someone had swapped out their uniforms for the alien equivalent of Hawaiian shirts. Big and flowery, albeit not Earth flowery, in bright peacock and sunset colors. The Robinson women and other female crew members all wore sarongs of a similar material and seemed perfectly content to do so. Gaudy, colorful jewelry encircled necks and wrists. She suspected that ensemble was waiting for her back in her room and was glad she'd left quickly, before the robo-servers had gotten to work.

Lunch dragged on and on, at least by her measurement. Robinson, West and a few scientists discussed what they'd do when reunited with the rest of the Ark fleet. All the post-Diaspora Earth travelers had gone one way but a lone thousand-person vessel had veered off course, passed through a tear in the fabric of space/ time and ended up far from their fleet. All their instruments had told them they weren't where they should have been, were in a sector of space not at all familiar. That meant they had no idea where they were. Or 'when' for that matter. Ironically they'd woken out of cryosleep within hailing distance of a very familiar ship from Earth history. Their sensors detected the Jupiter 2, automatically sent out communications, and in short order, the two crews had met. Figuratively speaking.

They spent a couple of days drilling and refueling on a typically inhospitable world, rich in deutronium but poor in everything else necessary for a comfortable existence. The Ark stayed in orbit, sending down crews in shuttles to assist and to familiarize themselves with their 'ancient' counterparts. Decisions had been made to stay together until a suitable world for colonization presented itself. Or until they got back on course to Alpha Centauri. Whichever happened first. No one held out hope for the latter.

Over the ensuing months, several decent worlds came and went. That was usually due to said worlds being inhabited already or having hidden dangers that ultimately cut the Ark's inhabitant numbers down by thirty souls.

Then came Zairen, the pleasure world, beloved by hundreds of sentient species. Travel-weary Ark inhabitants and an equally disheartened Jupiter 2 crew decided some rest and relaxation was in order. And so they'd done the obvious. The Jupiter 2, due to its size, landed and its crew met the Ark shuttle at the space port. It had been agreed that the Ark would remain in orbit and crew members would rotate planet-side for a few days then switch off with the next teams.

Smith had sat next to Ellen on the monorail leading to the resort. She remembered the glint in his blue eyes and the arch of one eyebrow as he made a few snarky comments about the man she learned was Major West. The handsome younger man hurled a few choice bits back at the older doctor. The others got to know one another on the brief trip and continued their conversations at check-in. Smith continued his barrage of vitriolic comments, insulting West's intellect, which was clearly not at the older man's level if one judged the doctor solely by his impressive command of the English language. The Major retorted by picking on Smith's weight (which wasn't abnormal despite what he said), Smith's age and levels of infirmity (which was apparently more true than the comments about his weight), and Smith's weak will (which was turning out to be true given his fondness for fine food, delicious drinks, jewelry with obscenely large gems, and her).

For whatever reason, he'd taken a liking to her instead of the 19 other women in the first landing party. And initially she'd been less than impressed. Much to her chagrin he'd grown on her. Now, here she was, yearning for his touch with a hunger that shocked her. She had her pick of hundreds of young, healthy male specimens both on this landing party and on the Ark, so why was she desiring an older man who was so clearly the opposite of a 'good catch'?

The mouthful of savory mystery meat almost made it to her lips when she felt the light brush of fingers on her bare thigh just above her knee. She quickly shoved the meat in her mouth and nearly dropped the tined rod that served as a fork. He began to draw lines in an ever widening concentric circle. Surprisingly, he stopped just as his fingers brushed the material of her hem. Those fingers, calloused from all the work she heard he'd tried to avoid but couldn't, sent shivers clear up to the back of her neck then down again as they drifted toward her inner thigh. If there hadn't been people around her, she might have grown too weak to reject him. Thankfully, Will leaned over her lap to snap up a vial of seasonings.

"William, mind your manners!" Smith chided in a parental tone before lightly and painlessly slapping the top of his hand. He leaned away from her and suddenly she wasn't so thrilled with the boy's interruption after all.

The boy smiled, his cheek freckles dancing up and down a few times. "Sorry, Doctor Smith," he responded repentantly but the gleam in his eyes said he couldn't be counted on to behave the next time.

While the other adults were chatting animatedly and laughing a bit louder than was normally their custom, Smith tilted back toward Ellen, his mouth just at the hollow where throat met ear and breathed, "I can't get the thought of our recent romantic rendezvous out of my head. And I desire nothing more than to prove I can make you deliriously happy. Soon."

Smirking at his bold words, she kept her face closer to his, "Is that romantically happy or physically happy?"

Smith gave her the oddest look. She wondered if he was being typically male, where romance and sex was more or less the same thing or if he simply had sex on the brain and romance had nothing to do with it at that moment.

He straightened and tilted his head at an angle in an almost dog-like expression of curiosity. The answer surprised her. "Would you be interested in me? Like that? Romantically, I mean?" He looked at the others to make sure they were otherwise occupied. "I thought you'd ultimately prefer—" He blinked slowly and nodded skyward. "To settle down, to have a lasting relationship with one of them."

"Tsk tsk! Excuses, Zach? Or is this a case of you being ever the globe-trotting playboy?" she teased. She found it hard to believe he thought of himself like that despite his claims. Then again, maybe he was that deluded. She'd heard he was a Colonel back on Earth, a physician and comfortably affluent. That could make him the object of interest for a multitude of gold-diggers who'd flatter him so often that maybe he'd ultimately believed the words.

With a brief shake of his head and a tensing of his craggy features, he replied, "It's one thing to enjoy that life and another to believe it's real." His hand found hers, warm and surprising strong. "I've craved a genuinely loving relationship for most of my adult life and despaired of ever finding the real thing. You've rekindled feelings I thought I lost long ago. So if it's romance you want, really want, no games, no 'just for laughs', then—" he paused and she saw his Adam's apple working up and down a few times, "—I'd be willing to...you know, uh—"

Surprised at his hesitation and display of humility, she let him off the hook. "Take our relationship to the next level?"

"Exactly, yes." He smiled gently, his eyes expressing thanks for making the conversation less painful.

"Something not purely sexual?" she asked playfully. She said the last word in a near whisper because the little red-headed scamp was leaning toward her again in an attempt to snag some sort of doughy roll.

Smith paused as he waited on William to move out of range. "Well, I confess I wouldn't mind if we got there sooner rather than later."

"We'll see," she answered enigmatically with a wink, and clasping his hand in hers, she led him outside. He immediately gathered her into his arms and kissed her until she was breathless and nearly faint with pleasure. As they walked back to their bungalows, hand in hand, stealing kisses along the way, no one even noticed their absence.


	4. Chapter 4

It was about ten minutes later that the diners decided lunch was over and began to disperse into smaller groups, excitedly discussing their plans for the rest of the day. Anyone observing Don and Judy would find them cordial enough, but there were problems simmering below the surface.

Shortly before the discovery of Taron, Judy had once again broached the subject of marriage with Don. Whether from cold feet, concern over starting a family before settling on a planet, or some other reason, Don tried to convince her that they needed to wait until they got to Alpha Centauri. Judy argued that they may never reach Alpha Centauri and Don didn't have an answer for her.

So, Judy resorted to that ancient romantic tactic… jealousy. She flirted with the single men on the Ark, even going on a few dates. Don could barely contain his anger. He knew exactly what she was doing, but couldn't keep himself from being jealous. It didn't help that Smith had egged her on, relishing the frustration it caused the Major.

As they left the table and headed back to their respective cabins, Don tried to talk to her. She kept walking, barely paying attention to him. Finally, as they got near the bungalows, he grabbed her arms and turned her to face him. "Judy, listen to me. I want more than anything to marry you, but…"

"But what?" Judy asked, a hint of bitterness in her voice. "Either you'll marry me or you won't."

"It's not that simple," Don explained.

"Sure it is."

"Judy, space is no place to raise a family. It's too dangerous. I mean, what if you get pregnant and there are complications during delivery? We can't just swing by the closest hospital."

"We have a doctor with us or have you forgotten?" Judy shot back.

"Smith? Oh, I WISH I could forget," Don responded. "I wouldn't trust Smith to take care of a hamster, let alone you or our potential children. He's the reason we're not married right now. He's the reason we haven't made it to Alpha Centauri."

"Don, that's not fair. Dr. Smith…"

"Don't you dare defend him, Judy."

The raised voices drew the interest of the occupant of the nearest bungalow, especially when she heard the name "Smith". Ellen moved toward the window and listened to the conversation with interest.

"At least Dr. Smith knows how to treat a lady. We've barely spent any time together here," she lamented.

"Yeah, well, Smith is just doing what Smith always does, using people to get what he wants, with his charming little routines and promises he doesn't intend to keep. Is that what you really want?" Don didn't pause to let her answer before he continued. "Besides, the reason we haven't spent time together is because you've been busy throwing yourself at every breathing male on the Ark." As soon as the words came out, he regretted them.

Judy looked as shocked as if she'd just been slapped in the face. She quickly turned and walked away. Don went after her and grabbed her arm, but she shrugged him off. He stood there, watching her fade into the distance.

The last person Don wanted to see came walking towards him. "What's wrong, Major? Need a few lessons with the ladies?" Smith smirked.

"Stow it, Smith," Don barked as he stalked off.

"My, my, so touchy..."

Smith didn't bother to knock on Ellen's door. He let himself in. "I'm ready for our afternoon adventure, my dear," he announced. He smoothed a hand down the front of his shirt, something a little more conservative and a lot less gaudy than the Hawaiian style shirt he'd been made to wear at lunch.

"I'm afraid I'm going to have to cancel." Ellen sat on the edge of the bed, her arms crossed, looking none too pleased.

"Is something wrong?" Smith's face echoed his concern as he went to her side.

"I think you should go."

"But why?" He asked, puzzled. Things had been going so well. "I thought..."

"I know what you thought. You thought wrong. I'm not someone you can just use and toss away," she flung her hand up as if she was tossing something over her shoulder.

"My dear, thoughts like those never entered my mind. What gave you the impression I would even entertain such foolish notions?"

"I've heard some things..."

"What things?" Smith prodded, anxiety starting to grip his heart.

"That you use your charm to get what you want. That you make promises you don't intend to keep. That you drop people like a bad habit once you get what you want from them." She studied his face as she enumerated his alleged offenses.

"I would never do that to you. You must believe me," Smith pleaded.

"Must I? You say you wouldn't do that to me, but you've done it to other people, haven't you?"

Smith opened his mouth to rebut her words, but looking into her eyes, he found he couldn't lie to her. She would see right through him anyway. "Ellen, lies are a poor foundation for a relationship. Believe me, I know from experience. So, I won't lie to you now. I admit I have done those things in the past, but not with you. I wouldn't dare with you. You mean too much to me."

Ellen clapped slowly as Smith finished. "Nicely done. You almost had me believing you. I know your kind, Zachary. I had you pegged from the start, selfish, pompous, manipulative. I didn't understand what attracted me to you at first. Now I can honestly say I'm not attracted to you at all." She said the words, but she wasn't quite sure she meant them. Yes, she was angry at him, but he seemed so sincere when he was with her. She kept telling herself it was all part of his act.

Her words stung him and all he wanted to do was to run away and hide. But he stood there, mind racing, trying to salvage this relationship. "Ellen, let's not be hasty. Let's talk about this."

"There's nothing to talk about, Zachary," she said firmly. "It's over."

Smith withered under her stern gaze. "Please? Don't let things end like this."

She walked over to the door and opened it. She pointed at Smith and then pointed out the door. "Out. And don't try to come back."

Smith just stood there in shock.

She walked over behind him and pushed him out the door. She closed the door behind him and leaned her back against it. Even though she was upset at the man, being in close proximity with him again had brought those feelings back and she wondered if she was doing the right thing.


	5. Chapter 5

The word 'bewildered' just didn't do Smith's current mindset justice. Confused, perplexed and rattled didn't fit much better although those were certainly true. They just weren't adequate to describe what he was feeling.

Well, maybe rattled did fit better, he mused. He certainly did feel that way. And bereft, yes, that was partly true as well. His muddled thinking just couldn't quite grasp what had just happened. It seemed to roll around his mind in a sort of blurry haze with sharper moments of their discussion stabbing at him. If truth be told, he knew full well she was right about him and his past relationships. But the key word there was _past_. There certainly was no veracity concerning anything she said about _them_.

In fact, he could barely remember feeling this way about any woman, even Clarissa who he'd proposed to shortly before she'd died on that ill-fated lift off of the Jupiter 1. Now that had been a dumb move on his part to start with although he hadn't felt that way at the time. She was gorgeous and bright, a suitable trophy wife if ever there had been one. But love? If he'd been truthful with himself, even at that time…if he'd paused to actually ponder their relationship, he wouldn't have classified his feelings as "love", at least not by classic romance standards. But with Ellen, oh that had been different. He'd been swept into her whirlwind of a personality, held fast and quite content to go along for the ride wherever it deposited him in the end. Arrival at the destination, whatever that was, hadn't mattered as long as he could keep her near. These overwhelming feelings he'd begun to develop for her weren't mercenary or self-indulgent, they were genuine and worthy of fitting into any romance movie ever made. At least the non-comedic ones. At least until now, where it all was feeling like a comedy of errors, except that he didn't know what errors he'd made.

After leaning against the wall of her bungalow for what seemed like an eternity, he turned back to the door. He heard occasional rustlings from within but she clearly had no intention of leaving any time soon. That gave him no more opportunities to plead with or reason with her. And deep down he suspected he wouldn't get any more hard facts out of her than he already had.

Yes, yes, he admitted upon reviewing their discussion, he'd been a user of women in his most recent encounters but he'd also experienced no affection for them. They'd been a means to an end, nothing more. He sighed then shook the head that was almost touching his chest. Even in those extreme cases, where he had supposedly 'ill-treated' those women, he'd still provided them with exactly what they needed…flattery and solicitousness. They'd all enjoyed his company but hadn't mourned his leaving, at least not really. So who had he hurt?

Ellen, apparently. Although he didn't know why or how. Again, he knew this situation was so very different from anything that had occurred in his space travels. Or as an adult, on Earth, for that matter.

Raising one closed-fingered hand, he laid it silently against the rough wood of her door, but refrained from knocking. He knew what the outcome would be. If she knew it was him, she wouldn't answer. Slowly, with a final mournful glance over his shoulder, he shuffled down the boardwalk toward his own bungalow.

The boardwalk at the end of the pier had numerous bungalows on either side of it, poised over the beautiful clear ocean waters, which he supposed would look like giant lifesavers on a lollipop stick if viewed from high overhead. The stick portion was the main boardwalk toward the beach. Smith followed it now, not entirely sure where he was headed. He had zero interest in returning to his room which had, only recently, been the location of one of the best experiences of his life. The phantom memories in there were going to haunt him for the remainder of their vacation on this world. He was sure of it. And he was equally sure they would haunt him long after he was gone.

The walk down the pier seemed surreal but he kept his feet moving. Ahead of him, a humanoid was slumped over the rail. At first Smith thought the being was being ill but once his vision came into sharper focus he realized it was Major West and the man was gazing down into the bottom of the shoreline where tiny waves lapped against the shore.

Without knowing why, he took up a position near the man. West didn't glance up at him but the sudden tension in the Major's shoulders told Smith he was not only aware someone else was beside him but he knew who it was.

Not wanting to initiate a conversation, the doctor glanced down to see what was holding Don's attention. A school of brightly rainbow hued sea-creatures, as thin as paper and as small as sardines, rolled and coiled beneath the water's surface. But that only caught his attention for a moment as he noted something else well above the water line. Smith spied a rather ornately crafted bottle grasped firmly in the Major's closed fist, partially blocked from view by his body. As if he didn't care who was watching, West upended the bottle and took a quick swig. The man grimaced and rubbed at his chest for a few seconds before resuming his former position.

For several minutes they continued to stand that way, side by side, with Don imbibing, and Smith trying to observe him out of the corner of his eye.

Without turning to face his companion, Smith said "Shouldn't you be with your lady fair instead of guzzling that swill?"

The taunt fell on deaf ears.

"Troubles, Major?" Smith intoned in his more gentle 'professional' voice, the one he used to get people to open up to him. It usually worked on Earth, but with Don West it was anybody's guess what would happen. "Or is your current mood a continuation of the 'same-old, same old'?"

When there was no answer aside from a rough grunt, Smith went with what he already knew was the ongoing issue, the same issue he now faced. "Women," he muttered softly in commiseration never taking his eyes off the rainbow ribbons dancing in the surf.

"Indeed," West responded after another draw on the bottle. He'd done a fair impersonation of his companion and Smith felt the corners of his thin lips twitch upward.

Smith pushed a bit harder, hoping the discussion would take his mind off his own problems. "Care to elaborate? I could use a laugh right about now."

Normally such a comment would have the Major attempting some form of verbal retaliation, a battle he usually lost, but, Don didn't even take the bait this time. At least not at first. Finally, Don observed, "I see you're also out here all by your lonesome. "Care to elaborate"? Troubles in paradise?"

"You have no idea."

This time it was Don's turn to smirk because Smith's impersonation of _him_ hit the mark.

"Women," both men said in unison.

"What a pathetic pair we are, Major." He inhaled deeply, allowing the pungent oceanic breezes permeate his nostrils. "The vagaries and vicissitudes of life never cease to amaze me."

"Yeah, what you said," West agreed with a wave of the hand holding the bottle. Then he proffered it to his older and theoretically wiser companion. Deep down he didn't know if Smith was truly wiser but he was certainly wilier. But possessing wiles wasn't solving whatever Smith's problem was. That much was certain. The poor guy definitely looked like he needed some liquid refreshment of the mind-numbing kind. This stuff certainly fit the bill.

The bottle changed hands and Smith, without even thinking about cleaning the lip of the carafe, upturned it and—

"Be care—" Don began.

-took a healthy swallow. At first Smith thought someone had shot him in the chest. Or hit him with a flamethrower. His body reacted instantly with watering eyes and an overpowering desire to cough. Before he could even inhale enough to power a decent cough, the bottle was snatched from his hand. Clearly Don didn't want the remainder of it landing in the ocean.

The ensuing fit of hacking turned into a wheeze before Smith recovered himself enough to find his voice.

'What the—"

Don didn't wait for the whole question. "Nicossi. And sipping is best." What he actually said was 'Nicoshi. And shipping is besht', but Smith's own brain was growing more than a tad numb around the edges and frankly, he didn't care how Don sounded at the moment.

"Fasht acting," he observed. "Fa—fash—fasssst. My goodnesssssss, thish—thisss is potent."

Don thought the doctor was beginning to sound like a snake as he struggled with his words but decided it wasn't worth commenting on it. Heck, nothing was worth commenting on at the moment. Including 'women' or lack thereof as the case might have been.

After getting the beverage back, Smith drew on the bottle twice more, far smaller nips this time and wrinkled his nose at the discomfort. "Powerful sh-sstuff." Even as he said it, he noted the pain was slightly less with each draw on the bottle and his thinking was definitely becoming more muddled.

"To Nicossi!" crowed Smith, raising the bottle in salute. "Whatever…or whoever it is."

For once, Don knew something Smith didn't. "It's both. Some offworld female…I don't know the species…came…came…here with seedlings from some fooot…fruit trees. Hybr—hy—oh the hell with it—"

"Hybridized," supplied Smith. He said 'hypridijed' but no one pointed out the error.

"Thanks."

"You're quite welcome."

"Anyway," West paused to love on the bottle again, "this—"

"Nectar of the Gods," Smith supplied with an adoring smile.

"Exactly! This result when fermented. Appar-apparently it can only grow here or it loses it's—", he paused to think of the word that was right on the tip of the tongue but just wouldn't come off of it.

Eye's rolling upward Smith searched long and hard for the word. "Potency?" It came out more like Po-en-shee but neither of them complained about lack of comprehension.

"Yup, that's it. So it's a one of a kind kind of thing."

"Ahhh, a rare delicacy, to be savored for as long as we have it." He paused, deep in thought. Then in a theatrical voice and a grand gesture he added, "Read as you taste fruit or savor wine, or enjoy friendship, love or life."

"What?!"

"Just a quote by someone my brain can't remember at the moment. It is somewhat appropriate."

"Yeah? Really? That sounded a bit random to me."

"Well, true. Forget the 'reading' part of it. Still, there are the obvious delights of this…superb beverage which are certainly to be savored, and while we aren't exactly… 'friends'…you will suf-suffice as suitable companionship."

"Thanks for that."

"You're quite welcome."

"And the rest?" Don finally sounded mildly interested. He struggled to recall the last of it. "Love and life?"

"What's love but a second-hand emotion." Smith stated firmly almost bitterly, chasing some rabbit Don couldn't see.

"You stole that from Tina Turner and besides, it's a bit negative in the song."

"I did indeed 'borrow' it, but it seemed suitable for our discus—discussion," Then he laughed heartily. "No need for snaky sibilance there."

Don smirked even as Smith said it. He could tell the doctor had to work hard on pronouncing the words properly. The struggle to clear his thoughts emerged victorious only after a long battle. When he spoke it was slowly and carefully.

"Seriously, when we're sober, and you are in a better frame of mind, I wouldn't mind a little chat about the L word."

"What's to chat about, you love her, she loves you, don't let the small life stuff get in the way."

Don nodded. It was sage advice even if the advisor was clearly three sheets to the wind. He drained the last of the bottle's contents. There was no more pain but there were still a boat load of doubts. He turned to his 'companion'.

"I think it's time for a refill."

"Agreed. You're buying."

"Hey, I bought the first one."

"And I charge $300 an hour for counseling. You still owe me…"

West shook his head but stopped immediately. The motion only made him dizzy, as did Smith's logic. "That makes no sense, but whatever. You win. Next round is on me."

Together, like two drunken sailors, the doctor and the Jupiter pilot staggered and lurched their way toward what passed for a 'bar' on this idyllic world.


	6. Chapter 6

Once Ellen realized Smith had left, she had to get out of her bungalow. Otherwise, she'd just stew in there thinking about what had happened. She grabbed a few essentials and headed out the door, peering in both directions first to make sure the coast was clear.

About halfway down the boardwalk, she ran into Judy, literally. Judy had just left her bungalow and the two collided.

"Oh, I'm sorry," Judy apologized as she bent down and helped Ellen pick up her belongings.

"No, it's ok," Ellen replied as she shoved a compact and her wallet back into her already overstuffed purse.

Judy noticed the conspicuous absence of Doctor Smith, who had been glued to Ellen's side nearly from the moment they'd arrived on the planet. Before she could think better of it and stop herself, she asked, "Where's Doctor Smith?"

"How should I know?" Ellen replied, with more acid than she intended.

"I'm sorry," Judy apologized for the second time in as many minutes. "I thought you two…"

"Not anymore," Ellen sighed. She, too, looked around. "I don't see Don anywhere. I thought you two…"

"It's complicated," Judy smiled weakly.

"Men…" Ellen commiserated.

"Men…" Judy repeated.

"Look, you wanna go get a drink?" Ellen asked.

"Yeah, I think I'd like that," Judy answered. "On one condition," she amended.

"What?"

"We don't talk about men."

"Deal."

Meanwhile, along the waterfront, the sound of dining, conversation, and music drifted through the air. Cutting through it all was the sound of two very drunk humans. Some would be reluctant to call what they were doing "singing", but it was the activity they were attempting. Several humans from the Ark had made arrangements with the bar owner to host a karaoke night. The owner began to regret the decision when the current participants took the stage. What they lacked in talent, they certainly made up for in enthusiasm, which wasn't necessarily a good thing.

The women looked at each other.

"Isn't that…"

"Sure sounds like it. And isn't that…"

"I think it is."

The two shook their heads, but curiosity got the better of them and they headed in the direction of the singing.

When they entered the establishment, their suspicions were confirmed. There on the stage, Don and Smith leaned together, heads nearly touching, to make sure their voices were heard through the alien equivalent of a microphone being held in Smith's hand. They slurred the lyrics, mumbled their way through a few they weren't sure of, but when it came to the words they knew, they sang loud and confidently.

"We can't go on together, with shushpishus minds!"

The Major echoed in falsetto, "Shushpishus minds!"

He joined Smith again, "And we can't build our dreams on shushpishus minds…"

Smith stumbled forward, trying his best to look serious, but mostly looking ridiculous. In a deep baritone voice, he pleaded, "Oh let our love survive… Oh dry the tears from your eyes…" The Major hummed backup loudly, leaning into Smith again. The doctor was too drunk to even consider how annoyed he'd be if the Major had been that close while he was sober. "Let'sh don't let a good thing die… When, honey, you know I've never…" Smith continued. He then spotted Ellen in the very back of the room. He locked eyes with her, his volume dropped suddenly, and he spoke the next words, "lied to you…" He stood there, entranced, his drunken mind wishing beyond hope that she would believe those words.

The Major, oblivious to the presence of the ladies, continued on. "Mmmmm…. YEAH YEAH! We're caught in a trap…"

After a few seconds, Smith snapped out of his trance, and joined the Major again. "I can't walk out…"

The audience, who were nearly as drunk as Smith and Don, joined in, "because I love you too much, babyyyy…" With that many drunken voices slurring and blending together, the lyrics were nearly unrecognizable, but the two humans on stage continued to lead the way.

"Why can't you see…" both men pointed randomly out into the audience. "What you're doin' to me?", Smith placed a hand onto his chest and the Major followed suit. "When you don't believe a word I say…"

The entire audience joined in again. The chorus boomed loudly into the still night air and continued until the music faded away. The drunken revelers roared approval as Smith and the Major took exaggerated, stumbling bows. Smith looked out into the audience, but Ellen was gone. The Major slapped Smith on the back as they exited the stage. The bartender, anticipating his customers' desires, placed two glasses of Nicossi on the bar before they even reached it.

"Thank you, my good man," Smith said, as he grabbed one of the glasses and downed it quickly. He clutched the empty glass to his chest, needing the escape the substance provided from the memories of yet another relationship in shambles. Major West laughed and took a sip from his own glass. The Nicossi flowed freely late into the night as the two, normally adversaries, lowered their inhibitions and fell into relaxed, friendly banter.


	7. Chapter 7

Blissful repose in a relative state of unconsciousness didn't fade softly or gradually as the prone body on the sand would have hoped. He wasn't lucky enough to be so blessed. In fact, he had met Nicossi…and lost. Not that he could remember the name of his downfall. At that moment he was only aware of one event and it was a thoroughly unpleasant one.

There was pain. Way too much of it. The proverbial anvil chorus, but with an obnoxious techno cadence, resounded in his head, persistent and intrusive. The agony pulsed throughout his entire skull until he thought it would burst. Adding insult to injury, his stomach roiled and gyrated to the beat. A soft moan of pain escaped his parched throat but that was all he could muster. No typical dramatic displays for him. No howling in hopes of attaining sympathy. No words to elicit sympathy. For one thing it hurt too much for anything other than a miniscule sound and second, his entire spark of awareness was too consumed with trying to flee from whatever was hurting him. Had he been more alert he might have quipped to himself about 'conservation of energy'. Wasting breath and energy on his drama queen act would have been pointless and useless in alleviating his pain. But he only pondered such things on a subconscious level and fleetingly at that. What he really sought was to hurl himself into a black void from which he could view his sorry state without suffering from it. Not long after, he got his wish. At least for a time.

The illustrious Doctor Zachary Smith, he who had toured some of the most sublime vacation spots and tasted some of the most exquisite meals ever prepared on earth, he who had slept on silk sheets in the most superlative five star hotels, next awoke to find himself spitting out prodigious amounts of grit that seemed to have settled in the corner of his mouth. He did so weakly of course, because that infernal headache was still sapping his strength. The pain now seemed to ebb and flow, totally conjoined with the soft whooshing of some indefinable source nearby. Each sound ended in a gentle hiss but his traumatized brain couldn't identify it. Or didn't want to. To add insult to injury his skin itched but he couldn't muster the energy to deal with it. So he just lay…wherever, not caring enough to alleviate his discomfort.

It wasn't until a needle sharp pain piercing the tip of his nose woke him sufficiently to focus on something other than his all pervasive headache. He tried to pry his eyes open and only succeeded after much effort. One hand, the one closest to his face batted wildly and weakly at his nose. The pain persisted. Intensified.

He couldn't see anything of course. Whatever was hurting him was outside his range of vision so he groped around the area that hurt and found his half numb fingers clutch something 'round'. Many humans, male and female alike, experienced a certain level of loathing and even fear of tiny and unwelcomed creatures that crawled on their bodies. Smith was one of those people. He reacted by trying to swat it off of him but that didn't work so he squeezed in hopes of crushing it despite how much the thought unsettled his stomach. Whatever it was, the small beast was hard and didn't crunch easily. But the pressure of human hands was enough to discourage it. The pain immediately lessened and in instinctive revulsion he tossed it. Smith brought his unfocused gaze down to see what he had flung away. Whatever the beastie was, it had hit the body of someone else lying prone on what he now recognized as the 'beach'.

A ring of sea green eyes glared at him from midway up the conical body as it tried to scuttle wildly between the two giant bodies. The thing, at least to Smith's vivid imagination, looked like a minuscule armadillo had decided to have a tryst with both a millipede and crab at the same moment. The DNA of both animals appeared to hit the armadillo ova at the same time and both sets of genetic material had 'done the deed' to create a spark of life. What resulted was this mottled, sand colored, pointy topped cone possessing layers of 'plating' going all the way around it, with far too many eyes and appendages. From between four folds, tiny stalks had emerged, with scissor-like pincers wide and open in a defensive display.

After an intense stare-down between the human and itself, the 'crustacean' realized it had an opportunity to escape between the valley created by two giant bodies, it made its exit expeditiously. The critter scuttled for the edge of the surf and promptly got pulled into the breakers. Brothers and sisters of its kind, not learning from the other's experience, were making tentative pokes at them and Smith gently backhanded them on their way. Truth was he had little energy to expend on anything else, especially getting to his feet and walking away. After a minute or two of encouraging them to find easier prey, he decided it would be better to vacate their territory, especially after one daring beastie managed to spear his pinky.

Flinching, he flicked it away and gave the body across from him a not-too-gentle shove.

The man lying there gave a similar groan to the one Smith had uttered earlier. As a tiny prick of pain lanced his calf just above the boot, the doctor thought about giving Major West another hard shove but felt a pang of sympathy for the prostrate man. He understood _exactly_ what West would be experiencing once consciousness returned.

Getting to his feet was a major feat. His equilibrium was tenuous at best. But once he'd succeeded at stabilizing himself he took stock of his position. Not far from him, on a gentle uphill slope, was a grove of pseudo palm trees. Their long tapered gray branches and enormous, purple, waxy leaves extended well over the sand, providing excellent shade. With a preparatory groan, he bent and grabbed a totally limp Don under both armpits, hauling him higher up on the beach, away from the small pests that continued to scuttle to and fro. With great effort, because unconscious people always felt much heavier, the doctor was able to get them both to the shaded area.

Once there, Smith's already meager supply of energy petered out. He settled a sand-covered, sweat soaked and smelly Don in a heap at his feet and cautiously settled down beside him. The gnawing cramp in his lower back wasn't going to show him more kindness than he already gotten from it and he knew better than to push. As long as the dune denizens stayed closer to the shore, he was content to lay there and recoup his strength. A glance at the sun told him it was going to be setting soon. How long they'd lain there was a complete mystery. The hand exposed to the sun had gotten a bit red although not badly sunburned at all. He assumed his face had fared just as well as Don's, whose skin was little more than a pale rosy hue overlaying a healthy tan. The sun screen sold in the native shops did a superlative job of protecting human skin from any harmful exposure. He mentally thanked whatever gods protected this world for providing such medicinals.


	8. Chapter 8

After a few moments cool-down under the blissful shade of the tree, Smith prodded West again.

"Major, rise and shine. We really must be getting back before someone lists us as 'missing in action'."

A loud and prolonged moan issued from between the sand speckled lips of his compatriot. Finally the prostrate man spoke in a voice that sounded like he'd gargled with chainsaws. "Go away, Doctor. You irk me."

The fact that West was mimicking him was a good sign, Smith decided. "I don't think that would be wise."

"Look, I don't care what you think right now. Leave me alone so I can sleep this off." Don closed bloodshot eyes for a few seconds then, as if realizing he still had a spectator, he opened them again. "Why are you still here?"

A taut smile tugged at Smith's thin lips. "I'm sure you've heard the saying "misery loves company"? Well, I don't plan on suffering alone, so get up." He didn't make it clear if he meant 'wake up' or get to your feet, but Don wasn't willing to ponder either option.

"And if I don't?"

"Then the miniscule denizens on this beach will pick you apart one pincer-full of flesh at a time."

"Great, that'd mean fewer pieces of me here to hurt." A hand prodded him again. West tried to ignore it.

"That makes no sense, Don." The emphasized use of his first personal should rouse him, Smith mused, then amended, provided he wasn't too far 'out of it'.

The response was slow in coming but come it did. "This is all your fault…Zach!"

"Need I remind you, it was you who provided that delightful nectar of the gods, dear boy. I merely partook of it with you. And I assure you, I am also sharing the most atrocious hangover I have ever experienced. I've been awake longer than you and it still feels like elephants are stomping my brain to mush." It was then that he managed a full smile. "But it was certainly the best high I've ever experienced."

As Don stared at the unearthly sky on the horizon with crossed eyes, he managed a weak smile. "Yeah, yeah it was at that."

Smith drew his legs up so that his knees almost touched his chin. He settled both arms around them, clasping his hands over his shins. It was a startlingly child-like posture for such a high strung man but he was beyond caring what anyone thought at that moment. "Unfortunately Nicossi, our friend and counselor for several hours, hasn't helped me figure out what upset Ellen. Judy can be handled more easily with professions of love and fidelity, promises of a lifetime together, which, if that is what you truly desire, won't be hard to express."

Don's words turned harsher than he intended, but the pain was making him surly. "For you maybe. You can lie like a rug while pouring out loads of flattery. Sweet words are so easy for you to say, aren't they?"

That made Smith glare at him. There was no compliment in Don's comment and well he knew it. Nevertheless, he let the protective façade drop. "When I want something badly enough, yes, I can always conjure up the words, but there was never any selfish intent behind anything I told Ellen. Every profession of affection I've made where she is concerned has been with the utmost sincerity. So I'm still perplexed as to why she suddenly thought ill of me. I've always been honest with her. Therefore, what has led her to doubt the veracity of anything I've said?"

Lost in thought, Smith didn't notice the frown growing on the Major's face. Nor did he spy the light dawning in Don's brown eyes. Deep down, despite how muddled his thoughts were thanks to the Nicossi-borne hangover, Major West realized he knew the source of Smith's pain. As sure as the sun would set on this world, he knew he and Judy were the cause of that pain.

There was one thing he did know for certain. He was definitely _not_ going to fess up. He didn't fear overt attacks from his sometimes friend sometimes nemesis, but Smith was and probably always would be, a 'sneaky cuss' as his beloved Grandmother used to say. And he didn't like ruminating on all the ways Smith could get even with him. Particularly in the immediate future when he was still trying to even out the situation with Judy. He needed the doctor's psychiatric skills more than he needed to admit the truth.

Without providing an answer to Smith's question and to avoid further discussion, he massaged his pounding temples then forced himself up to a sitting position. "Okay, you win. Let's get back and show the others we're okay."

As they walked, or dragged themselves along rather, down the boardwalk toward their respective bungalows, there was a steady stream of beings heading toward the assorted shops and restaurants on the shore. Although many species didn't necessarily adhere to what humans would consider traditional meal times, it was surprising to find that many did. Or they came close enough to it. Which made eating establishments sometimes crowded at certain times of the day. That time of day had clearly arrived. As they walked or rumbled or thumped or fluttered past the two gloomy looking humans, they twittered, barked, hissed, belched, burbled, hiccupped, or explosively flatulated.

As a true survivor, Smith had assiduously studied the educ-casts immediately upon arrival to his room. Knowing the customs of a group of 'people' would help to defray…misunderstanding….because he could avoid doing or saying something that might offend. Therefore, he had studied as many of the species listed as current visitors to better understand their habits. And he knew full well what those sounds he was hearing meant.

Clearly, Major West, typically more dense than Smith when it came to such things, had also watched similar edupedia broadcasts.

"They're laughing at us," he growled at the Doctor.

Smith glanced over his shoulder to note that several of the beings with heads or eyestalks were glancing back at them. Very few bared teeth fully because it was often considered a sign of aggression or an indicator that they were planning on making the object of said 'grin' into a meal. But enough of them were either _very_ hungry or thought the two male humans were quite funny. However, to display such thoughts would have been a serious breach of etiquette. And vacation spots like this were fairly strict about respecting each other. It avoided all manner of altercations that way. Therefore, he knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that they either appeared pretty pathetic or the passing spectators couldn't contain their laughter. Either way, it didn't make him happy. Inwardly he cringed. And followed it with an outward cringe as well.

"Indeed they are, Major. Unfortunately I can't remember why." He almost stumbled as he turned forward again. One hand shot out to grab the railing and the sudden movement made him flinch. Next to him, Don was squinting and looking just a tad green. No scratch that, he was green like earth skies just before the winds started hurling things around.

When the younger man finally spoke it wasn't in a happy tone of voice. "I'm afraid I can, at least tiny bits and pieces of it. But nothing clear."

"Perhaps this is a mercy. We most assuredly don't need embarrassingly painful memories added to this excruciating headache."

The boardwalk wasn't all that long but it felt like two miles to the pair of seriously hungover men. When they had gotten to about the half-way point, they flopped down onto a bench with loud groans. Fortunately for them, it accommodated a human posterior without too much additional discomfort. Except for the patterns of domelike knobs across its entire surface, it would suffice. Neither of them wanted to figure out which of the beings would have appreciated such a design simply because any kind of effort spent in intellectual pursuits was…too much effort.

With eyes closed, heads hanging and hands dangling between knees they sat there as more unseen tourists filtered by, their noises of amusement the only things the two humans couldn't totally block out.

The pair sat like that until something very large and ponderous blocked out the heat of the sun. When Don finally got around to forcing his eyes open again, he saw four very round elephantine 'feet' in front of him. Not wanting to face this alone even though Smith was totally useless in a fight, he elbowed the Doctor until he heard the man say, "Not now, no energy."

"We have company," West hissed and then flinched as the sibilance of his own voice pierced through his gray matter.

"I'm no mood to entertain right now."

"I don't think we have a choice." Don's creaking neck muscles were slow to respond but he finally managed to look up in to the face of the alien before him. Technically, it wasn't an unpleasant face in that it didn't make his heart race with a twinge of fear or his head hurt more. But it was strange. Though not more strange than anything else he'd seen since they'd stopped on this world for a rest and refueling. The four nostrils atop its large not quite round head flared as eye contact was made. Or eyes contact to be more precise because the being had two rows of 4 eyes, one row on each side of its broad face. Between those eyes was a long wet looking slit that seemed to perpetually tremble. When it finally opened, a long stalk slithered out. In the center of the rounded stalk were two soft looking plates. When it spoke, it was in nearly perfect English.

"Lucky for you I have some Tzok with me."

Switching his focus from the 'mouth' to a box strapped on a tentacle, one of several protruding from the thick upper torso, Smith realized this creature was one of the endlessly moving porters who brought meals, luggage, and an assortment of hastily requested supplies to the bungalows. An empty insulated case supported by another tentacle was another give-away although this alien species hadn't shown itself previously.

 _Shift change_ , Smith mused as he ruminated a few seconds on the 'translator'. The porter had probably educated himself, or herself, to recognize all the species of residents in this section of the resort and had set the translator accordingly.

"Tzok?" queried the Major. 'What's that?"

"Sounds like a cat about to purge a hairball." Smith grimaced and puckered his thin lips in distaste.

For a second Don was about to ask how he knew this because he couldn't image any animal being fond of the 'good' Doctor, but he let it go. There was no accounting for taste afterall.

The being that Smith identified as a Vlistan-mul shifted all 8 eyes onto them and shifted its tentacles as a stiff breeze threatened to lift its container out of its grasp. And then Smith was able to assign a gender to it. It was male to be sure after he caught a whiff of it. Normally sexless from all external appearances, the Vlistan-mul let their own species know gender by odor, which in this instance grew more powerful as their sense of smell started to return.

The mouthpart shifted back into its toothless maw and the 'lips' quivered a tad more energetically before the stalk reappeared.

It was trying not to laugh at them, Smith decided, although whether it was out of professional courtesy or an inclination to be polite, he couldn't say. He quickly decided it was the former.

The response was mocking in tone. Definitely mocking. "Pity you HYU-mahns didn't brush up on the local beverages before you decided to sample it. No one buys Nicossi without Tzok."

"Okay, I get it." Don eyed the small flask one tentacle displayed after it was retrieved from a shoulder pouch. "Tzok is good with Nicossi. Are they supposed to be taken together?"

The alien shook it's massive head in a vague approximation of negativity. "No, foolish hyu-mahn. Take Tzok with Nicossi, and the Nicossi goes to waste. No sense in that, is there?"

And then it hit Smith like the mallet that hadn't quite stopped pulverizing his brains to oatmeal. "Oh good heavens! Do you mean to tell me there's a hangover cure?"

Another quiver of those non-existent lips between the eyes told the two men they were a great source of humor to this creature whose overall sympathy was still questionable.

"I am not sure what a 'hangover' is, but if you mean, does it reduce the after-effects of the Nicossi, then yes, that is exactly what this is." He gave the vial a waggle. "Most patrons take it soon after deciding they've had enough…which I hear was a problem for you both."

Frowning at the Vlistan-mul, Smith pondered whether or not to immediately report this impertinent being for his cruelty as well as general lack of decorum, but decided against it. For one thing, he needed that Tzok. Now. And second, he wasn't sure if he'd need more in the future although he was fairly sure he'd experienced enough of the pleasures of Nicossi for one lifetime. _Well, okay, not a lifetime_ , he mentally amended, _but for a little while at least_.

"Fine," Don muttered. "How much."

"10 rens. Each." He produced another vial from the sack and somehow managed to twirl it on the tip of one pointed tentacle without dropping it.

Neat trick, Don mused. 20 rens was a lot to shell out considering the Nicossi only cost him 10, which in itself was fairly pricy when compared to the other beverages offered in the 'bar'.

But as the old saying went, if you play, you pay. Next to him, Smith turned out his pockets and moaned when he could only cough up 5 rens and 6 xi.

"This is all your fault, Major! If you hadn't been so…so…"

"Kind and willing to share?"

There was a pause. "Exactly. Though I daresay it was no kindness in the long run."

"Look, don't sweat it. I'll cover the extra 5 ren for you because you're foul tempered enough without the after-effects of the Nicossi to help you along."

"I? Foul-tempered? I?," Smith shrilled in indignation then clutched at his head just as Don was reaching to cover his ears. But, even as he spoke the words, some self-introspection forced him to shut up. Truth was, Don was right. He certainly did have his unpleasant moments. And he definitely didn't try to show them his good side. Heck, they probably didn't believe he _had_ a good side, aside from that one incident with Daddy Zach and that wasn't even him. Not really.

"Have it your way, Major. Just hand over the rens and I'll forgive you your fallacious accusations."

Fishing into his own pocket, West pulled out some large onyx-colored coins with a cut out star in the center of them. Counting out 15, he forked them over and waited on his irritating companion to hand over the remainder. Not surprisingly, there was no hesitation on Smith's part. He guessed the Doctor would have gladly signed over the Jupiter 2 just to get his hands on the antidote.

With great alacrity the coins were pocketed, or in this case, 'sacked', as the Vlistan-mul simultaneously passed the vials to each of them.

Just as Smith uncorked his, Don's hand stopped him. "Hey, are you sure it's safe for us?" Leave it to Smith to try something prior to testing. The barkeep had told him the Nicossi was fit for human consumption but as of that minute, no such claims had been made about the 'cure'.

The alien, who had taken a few stomping steps, turned his upper torso back to them. "It is fit for all carbon based life forms. At least that is what I've heard. If you have any doubts, you can have it tested first." And then the Vlistan-mul went on his way.

"You still owe me 5 rens," Don informed him mildly as he pulled the cork from the bottle and sniffed the contents.

"Good luck with that," muttered the Doctor under his breath.

Both Smith and Don eyed their now unstoppered vials. A simple trip back to any saloon or eatery would provide them with the answer. A simple hair or spit sample would do the trick and they'd know for sure. Then they eyed each other, looked at the shore, calculated the number of steps that far as well as the additional number of steps to get to the nearest restaurant. Simultaneously they chugged the contents of the vial. Moments later, the obnoxious headache and roiling stomach were a thing of the past. As far as Smith was concerned, those 10 rens were the best money he ever spent, especially the five rens he cheated the Major out of.

Feeling immeasurably better, both men ambled the remaining 100 feet toward their dwellings. Just as they got there, they were met by Judy and Ellen going in the opposite direction. Both ladies not only glared at them but gave them the cold shoulder as well.

Heart beating painfully in his chest, Smith gave her a wide berth. He not only hadn't figured out what had instigated the problem between them. He also had a suspicion that she'd already heard about their escapades with the Nicossi.

Unexpectedly, she stopped and faced him just as she was about to pass by. "You know what?"

Perplexed, he couldn't stop himself from asking, "What?"

"You stink! Literally." Agitated with anything "Smith" at that moment, she gestured sharply with both hands as if to push him away, then brought her right arm toward her nose for added emphasis. Not realizing she had no intention of connecting her hand with his face, pure instinct caused him to backpedal. With no time to recall the layout of the boardwalk, he simply reacted…or overreacted if truth be told. Unfortunately, this was the spot with the ladder leading into the water so there was nothing to prevent him from going over. He hit the water, hard. Feeling a familiar stab of pain in his lower back, he allowed himself to simply float back to the surface, face skyward. For many minutes he just lay that way, allowing the ocean water to soothe and embrace him until the discomfort faded. Eventually, he backstroked to the ladder and hauled himself slowly up it. And then it dawned on him. Ellen ignoring him had hurt his pride but abandoning him after ditching him over the side had injured far more than his pride or his body.

Once Smith had showered, he walked outdoors only to discover the Robot standing at the deck railing.

"What you are you doing here, you Neolithic Ninny?"

There was no answer. Smith's brows just about kissed each other in puzzlement sprinkled with a hint of frustration. Lately the Robot had taken to ignoring his queries. What irked him more was that, unknown to the others, he had been the one to design the Robot's AI and to have the Robot ignore him just wasn't acceptable. It had been planned early on in the project for the Robot to not only learn to think for itself as long as it didn't break Asimov's three basic rules, but to also develop a rudimentary emotional matrix…thanks to him. It would have become more developed as time had gone by but he had never foreseen that the boy's tampering would have exponentially increased the learning curve.

What should have taken a year to fully manifest, had taken a couple of months. His 'experiment' had been a resounding success although he knew it would never have come to fruition at all if he hadn't been 'trapped' on board the Jupiter 2 to observe it happening. He'd overwritten the programming prohibiting the killing of humans in order to protect himself and the people he cared about most. After all, what were the lives of six people when it came to saving his loved ones and, coincidentally, billions of other lives?

And then he'd had to undo it all once the robot had gone predictably berserk, if only to save his own skin. Such a waste of genius he reflected as he studied his own creation. The emotion matrix project had just been an amusing offshoot of the basic project. He hadn't been all that certain it would work as well as it had. And now his creation was being obstinate and he was certain he didn't care for that at all.

"I said, what are you doing here?"

"It really is beautiful here," the Robot observed.

"That's not answering my question."

"I enjoyed our time on the Gaelorian Gem. It was fun overall. But this planet is really spectacular, even to my limited audiovisual sensors."

"I'm waiting, you loathesome laggard. You know what I'm asking. So out with it."

The Robot's bubble swiveled toward him, the lights in the 'grill' lit up and a hoarse chuckle emanated from the speaker in his torso. Then he returned his gaze back at the sea.

"I can predict some serious reprogramming in your immediate future."

Once again, the Robot's bubble swiveled to face him and he heard the same mechanical equivalent of laughter.

Smith's hand instinctively arose in a tight fist. "You've better tell me what this is about or—"

"The professor asked me to babysit the two of you."

"He wouldn't!"

"Not in so many words but he did mention keeping the both of you away from something called Nicossi."

"And how do you propose to do that you if you don't even know what that is, you junkheap jailer."

The Robots bubble didn't move this time but there was a lilt to the cybernetic voice. "Because I've already heard the stories about your exploits."

Smith almost choked. "What stories?"

No answer.

"I order you to answer me."

Still no answer. And no movement. Why oh why had he ever experimented with developing emotional responses into this stoic sentinel.

"I wasn't in this alone." He heard the pathetic whine in his voice but wasn't about to take _all_ the blame for this. Surely that moronic Major should be held culpable as well.

"Yes, I know. And I am under strict orders to keep _both_ of you from annoying the 'natives' or giving humanity a bad name."

"I don't need a babysitter," Smith protested indignantly.

"I beg to differ," was the succinct reply.

There was only one way to rectify this situation and that was to lose that cybernetic simpleton as soon as possible but first, thanks to the Tzok, he was able to think of food again, and that meant a trip to Floo's for a bite to eat. It had been passable for dinner the night before. Not only had the menu had been reasonably diverse but the food was plentiful and inexpensive. That made it well worth his while to return even if the blasted Robinsons and their medieval moralizing were there already. As far as he was concerned, Judy and Ellen could also ignore them because he was too physically and mentally drained to participate in a war of wills with them.

After ascertaining that West was in his room and interested in going out for a bite to eat, the pair headed toward Floo's with their 'guard' following close behind.


	9. Chapter 9

As Smith and West approached the busy restaurant, the Robot guided them toward a table in a back room, isolated from the rest of the establishment. Smith swatted at the Robot's claws and verbally registered his displeasure at being herded like cattle, but the Robot didn't care.

They entered the room to smiles and snickers coming from the entire Robinson family, who were seated around a small rectangular table decorated lavishly with local flowers and the most elaborate banquet spread they'd seen on this planet. The doctor and pilot looked at each other in dread, knowing the Robinsons all knew what, apparently, everyone else on the planet knew about the drunken adventures they couldn't remember themselves. As both mulled over whether or not to try to explain themselves, the Robinson patriarch had mercy on them and suggested they take a seat and share their meal first, gesturing to the two empty chairs near the head of the table. The men quickly sat down, grateful for the reprieve, however short it may turn out to be. Smith noticed, with some measure of relief and a touch of sorrow, that Ellen was not there. He also observed that Judy was seated as far from the Major as physically possible.

Not only could the two not remember what they'd done, they couldn't remember when they'd last eaten. They eagerly passed plates back and forth between themselves as they filled their plates with a sample of every dish on the table. The rest of the family waited until the flurry of plate passing had finished to fill their own plates. They shared bemused looks as the doctor and pilot shoveled food into their mouths, unheeding of their audience. Once the novelty of the spectacle had worn off, casual conversation broke out and a sense of normalcy settled over the family.

As the meal finished, Smith leaned back in his chair and patted his satiated stomach. Unknowingly, the Major had mirrored the doctor's actions almost exactly, which hadn't gone unnoticed by the Professor. He gestured back and forth between the two of them and stated, "I think the two of you have been spending too much time together."

Smith looked at the Major, who looked back at him, and each realizing they were both in the same relaxed position, sat bolt upright, extended an index finger and opened their mouths to dispute the Professor's statement. Then, realizing they had again mirrored each other's actions, they closed their mouths. Smith planted an elbow on the table and clutched his head in his hand, supremely embarrassed at being compared to the Major. Don rubbed the back of his neck and avoided John's gaze while admitting, "He may have a point, Smith."

The Professor smiled, folded his hands in front of him and leaned forward towards the two men. "I don't know what's going on with you two, and quite frankly I don't want to know. But could you please do us a favor and not cause embarrassment to the entire human race?"

Smith just shook his head in shame, his hand still firmly planted over his face. The Major's face grew bright red. "Sorry, John," he replied sheepishly.

The doctor took a deep breath and looked up at the Professor. "My sincerest apologies, Professor. I don't know what came over me." He cleared his throat and seemed for a moment that he would continue, but he stayed silent, deciding the less he said, the better.

"Well… let's just hope that what happens on Taron stays on Taron," Maureen added, which resulted in a round of chuckles from the children.

The Professor let the matter drop while inwardly chuckling to himself. Truth be known, he was glad the two were getting along for once rather than being at each other's throats. Now, if only he could get them to do that without getting into trouble.

As dinner wound down and the family went their separate ways, Smith caught up with Judy and pulled her aside. He may not be able to repair his relationship with Ellen, but perhaps he could spare Judy and the Major the heartbreak he was feeling.

"My dearest Judy, may I have a word with you?" he requested.

"What is it, Doctor Smith?" she inquired, though she suspected she knew the topic of conversation.

"I couldn't help observing that you and the Major are going through some difficulties," he began. "I know it's none of my business, but I can't bear to see two young people so obviously in love separated by misunderstanding."

"You're right. It _is_ none of your business," Judy said defensively. "But for your information, _we_ aren't going through any difficulties. As far as I'm concerned, there is no 'we'."

Smith paused a moment. "I'm sorry. Perhaps I misjudged the situation. I came to appeal to you to give the Major another chance. He's been absolutely miserable without you. I can see, however, that I may have been mistaken that you still harbor feelings for him. My sincere apologies for the intrusion," Smith bowed slightly and turned to leave.

"Wait!"

Smith suppressed a grin as he slowly turned back to her. "Yes?"

"He's miserable?" she asked.

"Dejected. Forlorn. A pitiable and broken wretch of a man."

Judy couldn't help but chuckle at Smith's melodramatic description. "That bad, huh?"

"A tragic, pathetic shadow of his former self," Smith continued, laying it on thick. "Completely lost without you."

"Well, maybe it wouldn't hurt to just talk to him. It wouldn't do to leave our pilot a pathetic, broken wretch, would it?" she replied.

"No," Smith agreed. "No, that wouldn't be wise."

"Alright," Judy decided, sighing heavily for effect. "If you think I should…"

"Oh, yes. It is my professional psychiatric opinion that the Major must not be allowed to remain in this state of despondency."

"I will talk to him this afternoon," she promised.

He took one of her hands in both of his and gave it a gentle squeeze. "Bless you, my dear." He paused for a moment as another thought entered his head. "It might be best if you not tell him of my appeal to you. The mere mention of my name can have unpredictable results on the Major's mood," he explained.

Judy smiled. She knew his request was not for the sake of Don's mood, but to protect the doctor's carefully manicured, but patently false, image of disinterest in the Major's well-being. He cared or he wouldn't be there making the appeal.

"I understand," she said, then leaned forward and gave him a quick peck on the cheek. "Thank you, Doctor Smith."

Smith blushed slightly, squeezed her hand once again, and left.

Despite Smith's best efforts to remain under the radar, the Major had witnessed the whole exchange. He hadn't heard all of the conversation, but when Judy spotted him and came over to talk, he knew what the doctor had done for him. For a nanosecond, he wondered what ulterior motives Smith had, but the thought was quickly overshadowed by gratefulness.

Judy stopped a few feet from Don and they stood in awkward silence for a few seconds. When they finally spoke, they spoke in unison.

"Don, I'm sorry…"

"Judy, I'm sorry…"

The two of them laughed in relief.

"Look, Judy. I don't want to fight anymore. Can we please go back to how it was before?"

"Exactly what does 'how it was before' entail?" she asked, curious if Don had actually done any thinking about the conversation that started this whole mess.

"Loving each other. Planning on spending our lives together…"

"Does that include getting married whether we reach Alpha Centauri or not?" she inquired.

Don sighed. "I suppose, if we stick together with the Ark, there will be a full medical team available to handle any possible complications if you become pregnant…"

"And we'll have Doctor Smith…" she insisted.

"Heaven help us," Don feigned exasperation.

Judy nearly leaped into Don's arms, hugging him tightly and he reciprocated.

After having spoken to Judy, Smith felt a spark of confidence and gathered his courage to try talk to Ellen again, though he was unsure if it would do any good. He spotted her walking towards the bungalows and hurried to catch up with her. He closed to within one hundred yards of her when he saw her greet another man. Immediately, he ducked behind one of the many vendor carts and pretended to be interested in the merchandise while he kept an eye on her. She threw her arms around the other man's neck and kissed him. Breaking the kiss, the two turned back the way Ellen had just come and walked hand and hand. Happily, it seemed. He recognized the look on the man's face. It was the feeling of bliss he'd felt just days before as he had held her hand in his.

When the happy couple had passed, Smith slipped back to his bungalow.


	10. Chapter 10

Smith slapped his hand against the biometric sensor and the door to his bungalow opened.

"Lights off," he barked and the bungalow went dark at his command.

He flopped onto his bed and stared up into the darkness, wondering for the umpteenth time just how he'd gotten where he was. It had nothing to do with how he'd treated Ellen. He knew that for certain. It had everything to do with his history of poor choices and self-centered behavior. But, how did she know? She had figured him out somehow and decided that she didn't want to risk the possibility that he'd revert to form. She thought she could do better and Smith begrudgingly agreed with her assessment, though he wasn't sure her current boyfriend qualified as "better".

For the love of a woman like her, he would try, he DID try, to behave himself, to be a better person than he'd ever been before. But, he admitted to himself that he was a deeply flawed man. He had tried to change before. He had tried to be everything the Robinsons wanted him to be, but he failed time after time. Changing was too hard, especially at his age, and he was too insecure, too scared, and too weak to manage it, exactly like every other adult in the Smith clan he'd grown up around. He lay there for hours psychoanalyzing himself, but rather than finding any answers, he only succeeded in making himself more miserable.

How had he described the Major to Judy? "A pitiable and broken wretch of a man." Yes, that is how he felt. He wondered if this is how he had made women feel, using them for his own selfish desires, a trip back to Earth, a fun little dalliance on the French Riviera, a short romance with the daughter of a man who could help further his career. He would never know how he'd made them feel in the end, but he began to feel remorse at the possibility that they'd hurt as much as he did now. Perhaps this was karmic retribution, to find true love and have it snatched away from him for all his past misdeeds.

That evening, Smith slept fitfully, alternating between dreams of more blissful days with Ellen and nightmares of her being torn from him and whisked away out of his reach.

When he awoke late the next morning, he started the pity party back up in earnest. In the midst of it, Smith heard a soft knock at the door. He sat up, hopeful it might be Ellen, coming to tell him how wrong she'd been and how horrible her date had gone.

"Smith, you in there?" the Major asked.

"Go away, Major," Smith replied in disappointment.

"We missed you at dinner," Judy said.

"And breakfast," the Major added.

"We're worried about you," Judy's voice sounded sincere.

"Oh, I'm sure the Major is deeply concerned about my wellbeing," the doctor retorted.

"Actually," the Major admitted, "I kind of am."

There was silence for a few moments and the couple looked at each other wondering if they were making things worse. Wordlessly, they turned to leave.

"Enter," they heard Smith's voice say softly and the bungalow door opened at his invitation.

"Why is it so dark in here?" the Major remarked. Judy nudged him with an elbow.

"Lights," Smith commanded. "Let's get this over with," he sighed.

"Well," Judy began, "we thought maybe we could help you patch things up with…"

"Ellen?" Smith interrupted.

"Yeah," Judy confirmed. She felt awkward talking to Smith about his love life. Don wasn't exactly thrilled about it either and Smith was least thrilled of all. But they were truly concerned about him. He had not been himself lately. His drunken escapades with Don would attest to that, as would his missing meals.

"I'm afraid that's impossible," Smith lamented. "She's already found someone else."

"Clifford?" the Major asked. "I've met him. He's not exactly the sharpest tool in the shed." Judy gave him another elbow. "Well, he's not," the Major reiterated.

"Doctor Smith, I think what Don is trying to say is that you have so much more going for you, so much more to offer Ellen than Clifford does. Did you stop to think that maybe Ellen is using him to make you jealous?" Judy postulated.

"Perhaps," Smith agreed, "but not in a bid to get me back, my dear. She made that very clear. She's rubbing my nose in it."

The Major could feel the hopelessness in Smith's voice. Judy started to say something, but he grabbed her arm and with a look, he let her know he had an idea.

"Look, Judy, I think we're wasting our time. He doesn't really love her as much as says he does," the Major grabbed Judy's elbow and ushered her toward the door.

"What?!" the doctor rose from the bed, indignant. "Of course I love her! I wouldn't be so miserable without her if I didn't love her." He plopped back down on the bed again, despondent.

The Major suppressed a smile. _That got a rise out of him, but not enough._ "Look at him," he said to Judy, gesturing in Smith's direction. "He's so self-involved in throwing himself a pity party that he doesn't even care that some other guy is having his way with Ellen."

"Now see here, Major!" Smith stood once more, his ire rising.

The Major decided to push some more. "I can see now why Ellen didn't want him. He doesn't even care enough to fight for her. No wonder she hopped right into bed with that doofus Clifford."

"Careful, Major," Smith warned.

The Major laughed. "I can see why she prefers a muscle-bound oaf like Clifford. At least he's not spineless."

The Major never saw the right cross that took him down.

"Doctor Smith!" Judy admonished as she kneeled beside her fiancé.

Smith stood silently over the Major, seething, his right hand still clenched in a fist.

On the floor, the Major rubbed his jaw and laughed. "No, Judy. I was wrong." He pointed to Smith. "THAT is a man in love."

The realization of what the Major had done dawned on him. Smith slowly unclenched his fist. He offered that hand to the Major to help him up. "I'm sorry," he said quietly.

"Don't be," the Major answered. "You need to stay fired up for tomorrow."

"Tomorrow?" Smith queried.

"When we go find Ellen and you fight to get her back," the Major explained.

"I… I don't know about that," Smith took a step back.

"You love her. You proved it with that right cross," the Major pointed at Smith's hand. "And you can take Clifford," the Major laughed and rubbed his jaw again. "You proved it with that right cross."

"But, violence, Major? I don't think…"

"Doctor Smith, you don't need to engage in violence to fight for her," Judy assured him. "I think what Don, in his own way, was trying to say is that you're more than a match for Clifford. You can persuade Ellen to see that."

Smith nodded in understanding. "Tomorrow?"

"Yeah," the Major replied. "I overheard them mention they're taking a day trip to Vaurralt Park."

"You were spying on them," Smith deduced.

"I prefer 'overheard'," the Major replied, which drew a smile from Smith. "Anyway, I think that tomorrow would be a great day for you, me, and Judy to check out the sights in Vaurralt Park."

"I hear the weather is supposed to be fantastic," Judy added. "Wonderful weather for a picnic." She smiled as she witnessed Smith's mood significantly brighten.

"We'll meet back here tomorrow morning at nine then?" the Major confirmed.

Smith nodded his approval to the plan.

"See you then, Doctor Smith," Judy stepped forward and gave him a quick hug and an affectionate peck on the cheek.

"Thank you," Smith said softly as they broke the embrace.

Judy simply nodded in response.

Smith saw them out the door, feeling a little less lonely knowing he had such friends in his corner.

The couple took a few steps then the Major turned, "Oh, and Smith?"

"Yes?"

"The next time you take a swing at me, you'd better be prepared to run…"

Smith quickly closed the door to hide his smile from the Major.

The Major chuckled as he offered his arm to Judy and walked her back to her bungalow.

"I think you were a little hard on Dr. Smith," Judy stated.

"Maybe," Don admitted as he rubbed his jaw again, "but it worked.


End file.
